Page 13 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
There’s a crack in my resistance. I take a deep breath. “We can’t, Ginny.”
“Why not? Give me one good reason.”
I could give her fifty. The problem is that she won’t hear any of them. “For starters, it’s dishonest. I know you want to win the crown, but you’re not a cheater.”
I could say that our mother wouldn’t want her to win this way, that she and our dad never condoned outrageous ploys like this, but it feels too cruel to utter out loud. It also seems unfair, since I barely remember our mom. But if we do this, it would be lying in a really major way. I know she’s desperate, but Ginny is a good person. Switching places is too deceitful even for her to contemplate.
“But it’s only for the preliminaries. Winning the finals would be all up to me, fair and square. You said yourself that I’m a lock for the top twenty. Ialwayscoast through the prelims. I just can’t do it like this.” She gestures toward her horribly puffy face. It really does look bad.
I have a hard time believing it will be back to normal in just three days, maybe because I’ve completely lost faith in her lunatic doctor.
“So go ahead and compete in the prelims. Maybe the whole allergy thing won’t matter so much.” I can barely get the words out.Of courseit would matter. They can call it whatever they want, but it’s still a beauty pageant.
“I just need help for the first few days. The finals aren’t until next week.” She makes little prayer hands. “Please.”
She shouldn’t have mentioned the pageant finals. The final event is going to be televised. My mind is snagging on the possibility of having to stand onstage in front of a bunch of cameras.
What if she’s not better by then? Would I have to keep going?
She’d never let me quit. Not if I make it that far and she can’t step in.
“Ginny...” I shake my head.
She has no idea what she’s asking of me.
Maybe if she’d been the sister who’d been compared to her gorgeous beauty queen twin for her entire life, she might. But that’s my role. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, being Ginny’s sister isn’t the easiest thing in the world.
Take, for instance, how it wasn’t easy in tenth grade when the most popular boy in our class mistakenly invited me to homecoming and then withdrew the offer when he realized I wasn’t my twin. Or how it wasn’t easy when we turned eight years old and got new dresses for our birthday—Ginny’s was pink, glittery, and flouncy while mine was a plain blue, Anne of Green Gables–style pinafore. Or how it especially wasn’t easy nearly two years ago when I found out my fiancé was smitten with my twin.
It sounds bad, I know. Ginny has no idea, and I don’t want her to find out because it would crush her to know she had anything to do with my failed engagement. But as much as I wish I could forget how it felt to discover that Adam preferred Ginny to me, I can’t.
I might never have even known if I hadn’t stumbled upon a whispered conversation between him and his best man on the day of our couples’ shower.
“Ginny’s hot,” Adam’s friend had said. “Any chance you could set me up with her?”
Adam’s response had been a bitter laugh that’d stopped me dead in my tracks. Then, while I stood in the hallway of my parents’ house pressed against a wall of Ginny’s framed pageant photographs, I heard him admit that, just like that boy in tenth grade, he really preferred my sister.
“No way. I’m hoping to eventually trade up, if you know what I mean.” Adam’s words had been quiet, but they’d echoed in my head so loudly that I’d wanted to cover my ears. “Swap twins. It’s pretty much the only reason I’m going through with the wedding.”
I don’t remember much after that, other than sliding to the floor and wrapping my arms around my knees as bile rose up the back of my throat. I just know I don’t want to feel that way ever again—no one should. So I throw myself into books, the library, and making sure my innocent kids are as prepared for the cruel world as possible because I never want them to feel what I did. And if I focus on them, I don’t have to look too closely at me.
Sometimes I think about how much easier life would be if Ginny and I didn’t look alike at all—if Ginny could be Ginny and I could just be me.
Would people still compare us?
Would it still hurt so much to always be the sister who fades into the background?
I don’t know the answer, but I can’t stand the thought of all those eyes on me at the pageant. Being the center of attention is Ginny’s thing, not mine. Back when I was engaged, even being the bride-to-be felt uncomfortable. I think about the wedding dress hanging in the back of my closet—the one I can’t bring myself to get rid of, even though I know I’ll never wear it. Even if I do manage to walk down the aisle someday, I’ll never step into that fancy gown again. It’s not me.
None of this is me.
“I can’t.” My gaze drops to the floor in a desperate attempt to avoid the disappointment in her eyes.
But the hurt in her voice is equally hard to endure. “Don’t say no. Not yet. We’re stuck here for a few more hours. Just think about it.”
I don’t say anything. There’s no way I’m changing my mind. We could be stuck here all night, and my answer would still be the same.
Miraculously, she lets the matter drop.
